


TiO

by soulofme



Category: Easy Love - Fandom
Genre: Finger Sucking, M/M, Making Out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-04-17 03:24:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14179464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulofme/pseuds/soulofme
Summary: “That’s it, baby,” he says, voice wrecked, “There’s my good boy.”





	TiO

**Author's Note:**

> title from tio by zayn (a great fucking song tbh)

He’s a firm weight beneath your thighs, his hands a warmth that curls around your hip and grabs a casual handful of your ass. You raise an eyebrow at that. He gives you a smirk and cheeky little squeeze in response.

You sink your fingers into his thick hair; feel how it curls around your fingers, silky soft. You press your lips together again, even as they’re kiss-swollen and sore, and swallow down the moan that rumbles in his throat. His hands grab at your hips and drag you on top of him purposefully.

This hadn’t been the plan for tonight. A nice dinner, cheap wine, and one of those shitty indie films he couldn’t wait to see. A pretty basic night by anyone else’s standards, but it’d been monumental for you. You still don’t get this whole relationship thing. You’re winging it half of the time, stumbling along and hoping that he doesn’t notice when you trip.

But for all of your mistakes, he never seems to be going anywhere. He’s always there, hand outstretched, ready to pick you up so you can try again.

And God, do you love him for it.

“Nick?” he whispers, causing you to finally pull back. Oxygen rushes into your lungs and you sit back onto his thighs, feeling him press into you with need. “What do you want?”

It’s never about him. Not for one goddamn second. He’s always checking on you, asking you for directions, for pace, for _what the hell happens next_? Sometimes, you want him to be selfish. To take without asking, to take until you have nothing left to give, but you know he never will. You’ve got him wrapped around your little finger, apparently, and he’ll do whatever he can to please you.

You trail your fingers down the sides of his face, cupping his cheeks and pressing another little kiss against the corner of his mouth. You feel his lips curl up against yours, and roll your hips in a tight, harsh circle, just because you can.

“You,” you say.

The world tilts on its axis, and when it rights again you’re flat on your back. He looms over you, weight resting on his arms, and leans down so his too fucking green eyes are locked onto yours.

“I’m all yours,” he promises, punctuating it with a sharp roll of his hips, and your finger snags one of his belt loops. You tug insistently at it, wanting to move on already, to feel his skin against yours, but he shakes his head and gently pushes you away. “Wait a sec, baby.”

You swallow down the whine that bubbles up in your throat and tilt your head to the side. Cute, and enough to bare the long line of your neck. His hungry eyes sweep over the sight, and you sink your teeth into your bottom lip. You have him, hook, line, and sinker. He just needs to cross that line.

He doesn’t.

He cups your jaw, thumbs sweeping over your cheeks. One stops and takes residence on your bottom lip, pressing until you feel the pressure against your teeth. He grins and dips his head down to nip at the sensitive spot beneath your ear.

“C’mon, baby,” he coos, the hand not on your face trailing down to the hem of your shirt, “open up.”

Under any other circumstances, you would have chewed him out for that one. But you’re feeling good, all loose-limbed and pliant, and it almost feels like you’d do anything for him.

Probably because you would, you realize distantly.

Your lips part, and he takes the opportunity as soon as he sees it. Two fingers slide against your tongue, thick, salty, and reminiscent of something far more obscene. You clamp your lips around them and suck, once, twice, flick your eyes up to him.

He pulls back from your neck and looks down at you, eyes wide and awed. His other hand sneaks up under your shirt, running over your abs and up to your chest. He swipes a thumb over your nipple just to watch you shiver.

“That’s it, baby,” he says, voice wrecked, “There’s my good boy.”

You groan at that, unable to hide it, and your hips give an impatient jerk against his. He chuckles quietly and begins circling your nipple with more pressure. You squeeze your eyes shut so you don’t have to look at his smug expression, but it does nothing to block out the stream of filth that flows from his lips.

“You’re so easy, baby,” he murmurs. “You love it when I’m in your mouth. Love it when I give it to you.”

He fucks his fingers into your mouth a few times, just until you begin to gag lightly, and you can’t stop yourself from drooling. He sucks in a breath, sharp enough that you can hear it, and your eyes snap open to take him in.

“Messy,” he says, and you both watch as a clear drop of your saliva slides down the side of his middle finger.

You’re so fucking gone by now, hardly coherent, and you know he can tell. Want burns in your veins, a fire that only he can extinguish, and the urge to _keep going_ makes you squirm beneath him.

Giving one last hard suck to his fingers, your slide them out of your mouth. He sits back onto his haunches, watching as you struggle to push yourself up. He holds himself just out of reach, amusement making his eyes practically shine, and you grab his shirt in a fist and _tug_.

“Nick?”

“Fuck me,” you say, voice hardly over a whisper, and the smile he gives you is nothing short of predatory. 

“Whatever you want, baby,” he whispers, pushing you down to give you all of him.


End file.
